


Every face along the boulevard

by radiboyn



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autistic Spencer Reid, M/M, PTSS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, reference to canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:18:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiboyn/pseuds/radiboyn
Summary: Reid is sitting at his desk two down from Luke’s own, posture tight and tense. He has a pen in his hand, but he isn’t writing. He stares blankly down at the file in front of him, and Luke doesn’t need to get any closer to know there are heavy bags under his probably red-rimmed eyes.





	Every face along the boulevard

The case, by all measures, was horrible. 

A serial in Omaha, taking kids and their parents and leaving one or the other alive. He’d been good, too good, and it had taken far too long before the patterns added up and they were able to make an arrest. But it had been too late for six victims – two adults, four children, all leaving behind loving families who had stared at the team with eyes that burned with pain, with sorrow, with _you weren’t quick enough._

And, like every case they work, there’s paperwork to do, so they all stream into the bullpen straight from the flight, shoulders hunched with exhaustion and case details fresh in their minds.

It takes an hour of silent writing supplemented with coffee supplied by Garcia before they start to finish, packing up their desks one by one and filing out the door with quiet goodbyes and heavy footsteps. 

By the time Alvez has finished, it’s just him and Reid left. Reid is sitting at his desk two down from Luke’s own, posture tight and tense. He has a pen in his hand, but he isn’t writing. He stares blankly down at the file in front of him, and Luke doesn’t need to get any closer to know there are heavy bags under his probably red-rimmed eyes.

“Reid,” he calls from his own desk, trying to keep his voice as quiet as he can so as not to startle the younger man. Reid looks up with wide eyes anyway, as if he’s suddenly been shaken from his own world. 

“C’mon. Let me take you home.” Luke stands, picking up his own go-bag from under his desk and grabbing Spencer’s, too, before he has time to object. Spencer, despite his tiredness, neatens his desk before leaving, like he always does, potting the pen and re-aligning the case files so they’re straight, aligned with the edge of his desk.

“Ready?” Luke asks. Spencer only nods. “Come on then.”

Luke expects Spencer to sleep on the journey home, but he doesn’t. Instead, he counts the number of streetlights they pass, keeping a tally in his mind, his left leg bouncing anxiously. Luke wants to tell him to relax, to let go and let himself unwind, but he knows it’ll be of little use. Once Spencer is worked up, it takes energy and time to get him to calm down. Luke just watches out the corner of his eye as Spencer’s right foot taps once every time the count of lights increases by one.

Neither man says anything as Luke unlocks the door to his apartment. Spencer’s fingers drum nervously against his folded arms, his head ducked, eyes on the ground. The moment they’re inside, he toes off his shoes and pulls his tie off, leaving both dropped at the door.

He spends the next half an hour pacing Luke’s open plan apartment, his fingers wiggling the air as if he’s typing on some invisible keyboard. Luke catches him mumbling something to himself, his expression taut. He keeps up a pattern that Luke can’t hear, tapping out some rhythm or count that only makes sense to the genius.

Luke, for his part, resolves to let it happen. He’d seen how tightly wound Spencer had been for the past few days and had already figured it would probably come to a head once they were home. Whatever Spencer needs to do, Luke will let it happen.

After half an hour of frantic mumbling and unbroken pacing, Spencer finally stops moving and his shoulders droop. He has his back to Luke, his hands resting loosely at his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice thick and heavy.

Luke smiles sadly at his back. “It’s fine.”

Spencer hears all the unspoken affirmations in Luke’s tone. _Do what you need to do. I’m right here. I’ll be here when you’re ready._

He turns, his expression exhausted and dazed. Wordlessly, Luke opens his arms. Spencer hesitates for only the briefest of seconds before flopping down onto the couch next to Luke and resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.

Luke begins trailing a hand through Spencer’s curly hair. It needs a trim, but Spencer has been too on edge to think about visiting a barber lately. Normal life is suspended while he tries to get himself back on track, starting with the basics.

He washes, himself and his clothes. He mostly remembers to cook himself enough meals a day to not be constantly hungry (though he sometimes needs a gentle reminder from Luke or someone else on the team). And he leaves his apartment on days when they don’t have a case. That had been the hardest part for Luke to convince Spencer to do.

“I know today was hard for you,” Luke murmurs, his deep voice rumbling calmingly through the ear Spencer has pressed against his shoulder. “What do you need?”

Spencer sucks in a shaky breath. He doesn’t want to cry. He’s cried enough in the past few months to last him a lifetime.

“Take me to bed?” he requests quietly, turning further into Luke’s shoulder, trying not to feel the rising shame at sounding so needy, so pathetic, so childlike.

Luke gets it. Spencer can feel the sympathetic expression on his face without looking. Luke shifts so he can stand up, leaving Spencer propped up against the back of the couch, his entire frame sagging with bone-deep exhaustion. 

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Luke teases lightly, offering both of his hands. Spencer pulls himself up, not letting go of Luke’s hands until he finds his wobbly balance.

Luke stays at Spencer’s side as he waits patiently for Spencer to brush his teeth and splash water over his face. He helps Spencer out of his shirt and cords and into some goofy dinosaur-covered pyjama bottoms and a plain t-shirt, and then all but tucks Spencer into their shared bed. Spencer feels Luke press a kiss to his forehead as he leaves with a promise that he’ll be back soon.

When Luke returns fifteen minutes later, showered and clean, Spencer is already sleeping. He climbs under the covers and drapes an arm across Spencer’s midriff, settling for a night of well-deserved sleep.

  


* * *

  


Spencer wakes, three hours later, with his heart hammering in his chest and electricity humming under his skin.

A split second – a split second of not recognising the vaguely unfamiliar room he’s woken up in – is all it takes for his mind to completely disengage from reality, and he’s back there again, and they’re going to kill him.

He wrestles himself free of the covers and lurches to sit upright on the edge of the bed. His breath comes in short, sharp punches, and every fibre of his being is telling him to run as fast and far as he can, but he doesn’t trust his legs to carry him.

He puts his head in his hands and gasps, trying to force some air into his burning lungs. He needs to get out, needs to do something to quench the fire blazing under his skin.

“Spencer?” 

Luke’s voice sounds distant and distorted and _fuck_ , Spencer hadn’t realised he was that far gone. He’s losing it, he’s going to lose control right here in front of Luke, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“Help,” he gasps, “please, help me.”

“Alright, okay. Spencer, are you with me? Can you hear me?”

Spencer nods and then shakes his head. It doesn’t make sense, he knows that. He can hear Luke, but it doesn’t feel real, like he’s drowning, and Luke is too far away. He flings an arm out. He doesn’t know exactly where Luke is, but his hand connects with a cotton t-shirt and he pulls Luke towards him.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” Luke reassures, setting himself what would normally be uncomfortably close to Spencer, their thighs pressed together. He brings his hand up to rub soothing circles on Spencer’s lower back, feeling the tremors running beneath his fingers. “You’re alright, calm down. It’s Luke. I’m here, I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

Spencer feels his lungs constrict, because if Luke is here with him then that means they’re both in danger. He can’t protect both of them, can’t protect Luke from the monsters in the cells either side of them who want to kill him, who want to beat and hurt him until he can’t breathe-

“N-not safe,” he chokes out, the n sound getting stuck on his tongue. “You sh-sh-shouldn’t be here.”

“Spencer, where are we?” Luke questions clearly. His arm moves to wrap firmly around Spencer’s shaking shoulders. Spencer squirms to get away, but Luke holds tight. “No, listen to me. Feel me on your shoulders? Tell me where we are, Spencer.”

Spencer wrestles with his thoughts, trying to form something coherent. The answer at the forefront of his mind is _I don’t know, save me, help me,_ but he has to try harder for Luke.

“Your ap-partment,” he stammers, his voice wrecked.

“Good,” Luke encourages, “we’re at my apartment and not in prison, okay? It’s just me and you, and nobody is going to hurt you.”

“Can’t _breathe,”_ Spencer sobs, his chest heaving.

“Yes, you can. You’re panicking, but it’ll pass, alright? Try to focus, Spencer. Focus like we’ve practiced.”

It takes some effort, but Spencer eventually feels his vision focus for the first time since he woke up. His eyes zone in on the line where the skirting board joins with Luke’s carpet, and he tries to focus on the details, like the ball of dust to the right of his periphery and the single discarded sock to the left. Once he can see properly, awareness rushes back and hits him with full force, leaving him winded.

“M’sorry,” Spencer breathes, sagging against Luke, leaning his full weight against his stronger frame. “M’so sorry.”

“None of that,” Luke’s voice sounds relieved. Spencer hates that he puts Luke through this. “Catch your breath, Spence. There, that’s it, breathe for me.”

Spencer does as he’s told, pulling in shaky breaths in time to the hand on his back that rubs up and down as he breathes.

“Thought I was back there,” he breathes, a sob hiccoughing up before he can stop it.

“Flashbacks are a normal part of recovery,” Luke reminds him gently, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s damp hair. 

“Mm,” Spencer grinds out, afraid to open his mouth, still feeling nauseous and shaky. 

Luke extracts the arm he has around Spencer’s back, taking one of his hands momentarily and giving it a squeeze. “Do you think you could wait here while I go grab you some water?”

Spencer nods, feeling utterly wrecked. His posture slouches, his chin hitting his chest. He’s too tired to feel any more embarrassment or shame about the whole situation. When Luke hands him a cool glass half-filled with tap water, Spencer takes it in a shaky hand and sips until it’s gone, focusing on the cold that tracks through him. 

“I’m really sorry for waking you,” he mumbles around a yawn. A glance at the alarm clock tells him it’s just gone 5am. 

Luke sits down next to Spencer again, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “Don’t be ridiculous. You feeling any better?”

“Tired,” Spencer punctuates the word with another yawn. “I feel like I haven’t slept properly in years.”

“Go back to sleep,” Luke murmurs. He pushes himself to standing and pulls the covers back, smoothing them down. “C’mon. I’ll tell Emily we’re taking a rest day.”

Spencer finds himself unable to argue. He curls up beside Luke, pressing his face into the protective nook between Luke’s chin and chest. Luke smells of residual cologne and warmth and home.

“Love you,” he mumbles. 

He’s asleep before he hears Luke’s reply.

**Author's Note:**

> kjfhkdsf this has been in my 'almost completed' file for So Long and I haven't fully edited it so pls point out any obvious errors
> 
> hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> pls leave a comment and kudos thank


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